


Jinkies! A Costume Drama

by orphan_account



Category: British Singers RPF, Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Cosplay, Costume designer, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Girl On Girl, Lesbian, Oneshot, Roommates, Scooby Doo References, Smut, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Marika needs a model at short notice to do a photoshoot on a deadline. Laura is (reluctantly) available. Much gay panic ensues.
Relationships: Laura Marling/Marika Hackman
Kudos: 1





	Jinkies! A Costume Drama

"Marika, this is a really stupid idea. I mean, not that I think you're capable of coming up with non-stupid ones, but even for you..." 

As I speak, Marika unceremoniously wraps me in swathes of distinctive orange fabric and makes little marks and divots with a thick-leaded pencil. Her short, bushy auburn hair (I always think it's the colour of roasted cashews or dulce de leches depending on where the light falls) keeps bouncing in front of her face only for her to immediately brush it back. I can see a single strand stick to the edge of her light-pink lips. I look away, trying to keep the flush out of my face. I hate living with her because its just this 24/7. 

"Shh," she says, looking up at me and then back down at my waist as she cinches some fabric around. I have no idea what she's even seeing with all of this drapery, especially since she's already taken extensive measurements of my entire body and brought herself in closer proximity to my tits than she has any right to be. But she looks like a woman consumed, completely in the zone, the rest of the world burned out. And I can't but admit to myself that all this focus from her on my body is definitely doing things to me. 

"I don't know anything about the character! And I don't even do cosplay. I'm an- 

"-actor." She rolls her eyes. "Okay Laura, first of all, it's a fucking photoshoot. You're not exactly embodying a character on stage. Second of all, it's Velma from Scooby Doo, not Prince Hamlet. Third of all I fucking need this for my portfolio and I'm not going to be able to find another model and set up a socially distanced photo shoot in time for my interviews and you're literally my fucking roommate and fourth..."  
Her eyes slowly trail up my body where the loose fabric has slipped off, revealing just my black tank-top and my bare midriff. It's suddenly very hot. Her hazel eyes flit past mine and then slip lower. 

"And fourth of all, Laura, you have the most perfect tits." She sticks a pin between her teeth and speaks through it, her words clipped and over-sibilant. "For the job." 

But I can't hear past 'you have the most perfect tits.' It's like she can see through my tank-top. Like she can see all of me with her big, industrious eyes. My own blonde hair is tied up in a tight ponytail that leaves my face completely, dangerously exposed. Of course! Hair! 

"I'm blonde, though. Velma isn't blonde." 

"I have an excellent selection of wigs. Think of it like this, you pose for a few pictures and then you have a tailored halloween costume!" 

"It's literally December." 

She sticks her tongue out at me and I stick mine out back at her. She flicks the fabric off me with a practiced swish and gets back up on her feet, easily half a foot taller than me and much leaner. "Right. Perfect. We'll do this tonight." 

"Tonight? I was going to- 

"You were going to drink three bloody marys and try to trick boys on tinder into watching that web-show you were in."

I glare at her. "You are a cruel, cruel woman." She winks and blows a kiss at me before shuffling over to the room we call Marika's Studio, fabric draped over one shoulder and hands buried in the pockets of her forest-green hoodie. That's enough to send more butterflies fluttering through my chest. I silence them and head on over to the room we call Laura's Studio. I have to learn my lines. 

To have landed a gig, considering present circumstances, was something of a miracle, even though it's nothing more than a couple of appearances in a TV series at the very bottom of the recurring cast. Still, it's a paycheque. As I'm working through the script, underlining passages for intent and intonation and practicing characterisation in front of the mirror, I can hear Marika's sewing machine hammering away in the other room in short busts, followed by the occasional burst of profanity. I break character and smile every time that happens. 

This living situation with Marika was a classic Laura fuckup, just like all the other ones. We met at the shoot for a (terrible) short film produced by a mutual friend. I was the lead. She was the costume designer. I needed a place to stay and she was looking for a roommate for a two-bedroom she'd found in the suburbs. She was single. By then, I had (have) a massive crush on her. She was (is) lesbian and I was (was) comfortably in the closet. Which meant that things were (are?) painfully platonic. Coming out as bi, I thought, would change things, though it wasn't the only reason I did, but 'things' kept going with that respectful bit of distance between. Which is a long-winded way of saying she probably isn't into me. She definitely isn't into me.  
I'm freshly showered and pajamaed when she knocks softly on my door. It's 8:30. Earlier than I thought it'd be. She has that buzzed look about her, her hair only bushier and tied mostly back with a rubber band, her fringe peeping out the front and obscuring her eyes. It's Marika mid-project. I would argue, Marika at her sexiest. She hands me a white box, presumably with my costume in it. "Come to my studio when you're ready." All business, of course. But then again, her deadline was like in literally two days or something. I nod, not wanting to piss her off. 

My first thought is that the neckline is outrageous. Especially for a character that mostly wore turtlenecks as far as I could remember. But its cut and fitted perfectly to match my frame, as is the mini-skirt that barely makes it past my crotch. I pull up the stockings as high as they go and let them snap into place along my thighs. I look at myself in the mirror and giggle. It's an expertly made costume for what looks like the opening to a parody porno or something. 

"Are you sure about this place, Rikes?" I ask her as I casually walk in. She turns and looks. And she looks. And looks. She must be appraising her own work, the way her eyes roam every inch of me from my feet up to my neck. I can feel heat creep to my cheeks and neck and I gently do a twirl for her. She nods, her mouth slightly open. 

"P-place? Oh, you mean the... oh yeah, it's like one of those like trade magazines for geek culture or something? They do a lot of cosplay stuff. Like... uh..." 

"Like Sexy Velma."

She shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. You do look pretty... uh... sexy, though." 

My eyes widen and probably dilate on the spot. Did she just- 

"I-I do?" 

"Uh... yeah." 

I shrug. "I guess you did a pretty good job, then" 

"Y-yeah, I guess." She shoves her hands into her pockets for a while, bouncing from foot to foot. "Well, shall we?" She points me to the little station she seems to have set up, with a bedsheet for a backdrop, our shitty old red sofa with all the patches seemingly spruced in and some soft, diffused lights pointed in. 

"Marika," I say, giggling. "I'm uh... I'm still blonde." 

She swats herself on the forehead with the back of her palm, wincing. "Fuck! Makeup. Hold on, take a seat in front of the mirror. Can you... uh... I gotta get some props from the other..." 

I smile again and nod. "Yeah sure. Take your time, I can take care of this."

I typically tend to get properly coated for the camera but this is just Marika's home rig so it should be fine, plus I seem to be having a particularly good skin day. Not a spot in sight. I find one of my old tubes of foundation Marika had filched from me and slather it gently on, coating most of of my face, under my cheeks, my chin and on my forehead. A bit of concealer under the eye to hide my dark circles. I colour my brows in so they're much browner, so they can match the wig. A bit of eyeliner, just the tiniest hint of smokey eyeshadow. A fair bit of blush. I've applied some lipgloss and am just starting to fill in the edges when Marika walks back in. She stops again and I can see her in the mirror, watching, unsure. 

"Not what you were going for?" I ask, turning around for her to inspect me. 

"No no, it's perfect!" 

I smile my toothy smile. "Yay! D-do you want to maybe help me with this? It's hard to stay in the edges." Before I know it, my hands are extending the lip filler brush to her. 

She nods, eyes still a little wide and buzzed. Which is understandable. She must be nervous. Her face is inches away from mine as she traces the edge of my lips with the brush, an action that was nothing more than mundane when I was doing it but was now, suddenly, something else. Something different. I feel this amazing amount of pressure to grind my thighs together. The pink edge of her tongue is sticking out just past her lips as she concentrates. On me. On my lips. She looks into my eyes. I look into her. I can feel her breath on my chin.

Holy fuck, she's going to kiss me. 

She pulls back. "Hmm," she says. "Perfect." She does not kiss me (yet).

I smile, turning back around to braid and pin my blonde hair up, before pushing it under a hairnet. She hands me the brunette wig and I clip it on, letting the hair cascade a little around my face before I straighten it out. "Cute! I should consider going this short again, maybe even dyeing." I reach out for the eyebrow pencil and shade them in even darker to match the hair. 

"Yeah, yeahprettycute." She coughs. I get up and give it a little shake to make sure everything is secure. She hands me a pair of prop glasses and a magnifying lens. "Shall we?" 

"We shall." I giggle. "And hey, you've done a really good job Marika. You've got this in the bag, mate." 

She smiles a strangely bashful smile, her eyes darting away from me. "S-shut up. Go stand in front of the sofa." 

I tweak her nose, which is something I always do but it feels charged, somehow. In my head, probably. Because she just put lipstick on me and I thought she was going to kiss me and now my panties are just a little damp. So, everything feels charged. I go stand in front of the sofa. 

She turns the lights up and I squint a little before adjusting and closing my eyes, trying to get into Velma's head. "Jinkies!" I say, in my Americanest accent, voice squeakier and more nasal.

She snorts, getting behind the camera. "Okay. Just face the front. Neutral-calm." I comply, brain switching towards being directed. It's a strange sense of flow, all your computational power going towards being essentially putty in someone else's hands. But I don't particularly mind being putty in Marika's hands tonight. 

"Tilt your head just a mite to the right. Chin a bit lower. Raise your hand with the lens up a little. Hold." She takes a flurry of photos. 

"Okay, now bend like you're inspecting something on the floor." I bend. "Lower. Lower. Hold, now look up. Stick your arse out a bit maybe?" She bites her lips, clearly not getting what she's wanting. 

"Rikes," I giggle. "Do you want me to do it... sexy?" 

I can't see her past the lights but I feel like she's blushing. Because I'm a fucking idiot. "Uhhhh yeah, yeah I think... yeah. Yeah, uhhh... that." 

I shake my head, standing again and stretching my back a bit before arching forward, glass in hand. I tilt my head up like I've heard someone interrupting me, front twisted in a slightly contorted, unnatural angle to reveal more of my tits while my arse sticks out at the same time under my ridiculously short skirt. My eyes are fixed on a point to the left while my lips open just a mite. It is all one fluid arc of motion and I can hear the shutter clicks all the way through. I smile. "How was that?"

"Yeah, got it! P-perfect, yeah. Yeah, um, maybe you could sit on the sofa?" 

"Like just sit or...?" 

"I dunno, to be honest, maybe, um... cross legged... 

"No, eww. Hold on, let me see." I walk over to the sofa and rest each knee on it, showing my profile to the camera. Sitting on my knees, I tilt my head to the right, finger under chin and that same, pondering expression on my face. More clicks. I bend down to 'inspect' the sofa with my lens. More clicks. "Good?" 

"Yeah, just, could you... you know..."

I giggle, arching my back a little to perk my tits up even higher. I vamp it up even more with my face, l mouth open mid-pout, eyes wide. Surprise? Orgasm? Who knows. 

"...fucking hell..." I hear her mutter. "Yeah, uhh, more of that." 

I snort, spreading me legs open as I sink into the corner of the sofa, revealing my white panties. "That's about as sexy as I can go, mate." A joke. Like we always do with each other. And she's supposed to have responded by now. So why isn't she? Why is she just watching? Why am i sitting with my legs splayed open facing a camera?

"I-is it what you had in mind?" I say, finally, desperate to break the tension. 

"Yeah. I mean, I dunno, I mean, go with it, maybe? Let's see where it takes us, you know?" 

What the fuck am I doing? I am gently trailing my fingers across the front of my white panties, curling them gently around the slowly dampening middle. My face flushed, I don't have to particularly act out the moan that escapes my lips. I close my eyes. I start to hear the camera click. So I keep going, fingers gently curling and uncurling past the front of my panties while I whimper and moan gently and become wetter and wetter. 

"S-should I keep going?" I ask. 

"If you're comfortable?" She says, voice shaky. So I nod and do. I slip my fingers down past the front of my panties, a much louder sound escaping my mouth when my forefinger sinks into my drenched hole. I start touching myself, hands going in soft arcs as I feel more and more heat rise up along my body. More clicks. It's like she's trying to manually capture every frame, burn every microsecond of this into memory, and that's only turning me on more. My thumb flicks gently against my clit, teasing it out of its hood and massaging it into erection as I two fingers plunge in and out of my cunt. "Yes!" I shout, getting close to the edge. "Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!" My breath hitches and I gasp as I cum, my head tilting so violently that my glasses fly off my face and land somewhere in the middle, between Marika and me.

Fuck. Marika. Marika is here and I just... 

She steps into the light, face beet red as she bends and picks up the prop glasses. She walks slowly over to me as I recover, face flushed, hot and damp, panting. Her hands tremble and hover near my face, holding the glasses out. I look at them and then up at her face. It's a few moments of near delirious silence. Then, I reach up and grab her by the collar of her hoodie and pull her down to me. 

Our lips meet in a mad, almost adolescent frenzy as if she's almost trying to drink all of me whole, like she's quenching her thirst of me. She barely gives us time to breathe between kisses, her soft, thin pink lips enveloping my plump ones upper and lower. Her hands are clutching me by the cheeks, tracing down to my jaw and then my shoulders. She starts to kiss down my neck and I gasp. 

My hand is already down the front of her track-bottoms and I can feel the heat stem from under her neatly trimmed bush. Her lean thighs spit open immediately and she collapses on the sofa next to me, desperately trying to feast on me with her tongue and lips while I start to finger her. Her hands are a strange combination of practiced and nervous. She slides my orange top off and tosses it to the side of the sofa. I squeal, my midriff now bare with just my bra covering my upper body, and she makes fast work of that too, nearly snapping the band off my back in her hunger.

"You worked on that top for a whole day!" I giggle. 

"Shut the FUCK up." She growls and pulls me down by the hips so I'm flat on my back. I tug at the bottom of her hoodie and she lifts it up and off her, revealing her smooth, pale satiny skin and her small, perky tits, nipples full, pink and pebbled. My hands reach for them just as she reaches for me, tugging and squeezing at my much more ample chest. She bends, taking a nipple in her mouth and sucking with as much fervour as she does everything else. I moan, my fingers snaking through her bushy brown hair to push her in even harder against me.

My fingers work faster under her pants, causing her to grunt and gasp into my flesh before biting down towards my cleavage as she cums. I lick my drenched, sticky fingers and suck on them before letting her do the same, her face calm, suddenly, and at rest. But not for long. She tugs down on the skirt and the panties underneath, revealing my shaved, pink pussy, before standing up and pulling down her pants and boxers. I survey her body, top to bottom, eyes hungry. I don't have to wait long.

Our legs are just a hopeless tangle at first, before we finally click into place in a way that makes sense for our bodies, her slightly elevated over my somewhat thicker thighs, legs locking under and around as she begins to grind against me. I can feel the soft wetness of her own cunt slide against mine, smearing our juices together as we scissor. She bends forwards and I tug her in, our lips parting for our tongues to gently slide against each others'. We stay, body to body, moving gently and softly against each other as we bring each other to another sweaty, giggly orgasm. Then we collapse, sated. 

I am tracing the edge of her sharp collarbone under my finger, almost languorously exploring her body as she explores mine. 

"I was fucking scammed out of my free labour, wasn't I?" I ask softly, lips grazing against her ear. "I was supposed to get a free tailored halloween costume out of this." 

She tilts my head towards her and kisses me softly on the nose. "Yeah but what if you got a girlfriend instead." 

"Then it's Christmas."


End file.
